


Size Matters

by Carnivore



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mass Displacement, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4171545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carnivore/pseuds/Carnivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whirl pisses off Brainstorm and suffers the consequences. "Suffer" not being the most appropriate word after the miniature bot finds shelter in his therapist's office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Size Matters

**Author's Note:**

> 1) the fic's gonna be absolutely self-indulgent  
> 2) Whirl is roughly the size of a cat (proportionally to other bots)  
> 3) RC helicopter noises!! <3

Brainstorm found the company of his #1 weapons tester amusing enough to let him sit in the lab when he wasn’t busy handling _other_ volatile things. Whirl ranted, told rowdy jokes and generally provided the background noise, which helped the inventor concentrate and sometimes gave him ideas. But it was a bad sign when Whirl grew quiet, which meant he was up to no good.  
This time, however, Brainstorm got too carried away to notice the suspicious silence until it was too late. Snapped out of the workflow by the sound of a test-tube shattering on the floor, he turned sharply just in time to see a startled Whirl drop the gismo he’d taken off the shelf for a closer look. With a faint, almost melodic _clink_ the delicate thing broke into a hundred tiny details.

\- You insufferable clumsy imbecile! I’ve been working on it for a week! You don’t know how to behave in the lab - get the heck out of here!

Even Whirl usually had more sense than that, but at times something in his head jammed, which wasn’t surprising because it had suffered so many punches. Instead of running away in panic, the way that was more appropriate when dealing with an enraged Brainstorm, he folded his arms in defiance:

\- Or what? You kick me out?

It wasn’t often that Brainstorm faced such audacity, and he wasn’t exactly a patient mech. Whirl might be too massive to kick him out, but the weapons genius had the perfect solution for this problem.

One mass-displacing charge later, Whirl found himself danging by the wing in front of the suddenly-very-huge door opening. The next moment, a well-placed kick landed him in the corridor.

He didn’t fully realize what predicament he’d gotten into until another unexpected kick sent him crashing into the wall. It was delivered by a medium-sized bot whose name Whirl didn’t remember because he’d always called him Squarebottom (and stole his drinks at the bar when he wasn’t looking) who didn’t miss his opportunity to repay the bully as he was passing by. Whirl felt like his aft wouldn’t survive any more kicks, and his chances of living through this kick-Whirl-for-free day would be close to zero unless he found someplace safe.

But as grim as his thoughts were, they instantly paled at the sight of Cyclonus lurking behind the corner, an awful predatory smirk on his face. The only thing that saved Whirl was his newfound ability to fly through the corridors while his sworn enemy was too large for that. Dodging a grab from a clawed hand, a helicopter the size of a medical drone shot up towards the ceiling, rushing to the only guaranteed kick-free place on the ship.

\- Hey Doc, it’s Whirl! Lemme in! Er...please?

Rung was a bit confused when he opened the door and didn’t see the usual looming scarecrow of a mech. Instead a small machine whirred past his shoulder and settled on the top shelf, which was thankfully empty because Rung lacked the height to reach it.

\- You look curiously in place among my collection, Whirl, - the psychiatrist didn’t feel the need to hide his amusement, not after Whirl’s countless gags about him and his eyebrows. - What happened?

\- _Brainstorm_ happened, - Whirl transformed back and dangled his legs from the shelf, finding that his new size was indeed quite amusing.

\- I can imagine what must’ve happened to Braistorm’s laboratory prior to that. Pedagogical undertones aside, how long would it take him to cool down enough to change you back? I’m rather concerned about my own office staying in one piece…

\- I get it, Doc! A couple days at max. You won’t even notice I’m here! 

Only a bored Whirl was a phenomenon that couldn’t help being noticeable. At first he just _whirled_ across the room, performing barrel-rolls and various somersaults and generally making the best of this much flying space. Then he took to diving headfirst off the top shelf, transforming in mid-air, before he nearly fell on Rung’s head and the doctor’s patience had run out.

\- Is it how you’re going to behave when a patient comes? - Rung frowned, rubbing his antenna which got grazed by a wing. - Not that you could stay for the session anyway…

\- But they’ll take me to pieces out there! Pull my legs off and stuff, - picturing himself in such a miserable situation didn’t agree with Whirl’s self-esteem. - Fat chance they’re gonna catch me, but then someone might use me for target practice… - Who was he kidding? At least Rung wouldn’t make a laughingstock out of him: the gentle mech’s irony was so harmless that half the times Whirl couldn’t even register it in his tone.

\- Maybe you could sit it out in the medibay… - but the psychiatrist shuddered at the thought what Ratchet would do to him, Rung, for even suggesting such an idea. The medibay, after all, was a busier place than his office, full of delicate machinery and infinitely more important. Putting him in the brig instead was a sound idea, but sound for the general population and not for Whirl, whose mind was in a bad enough shape without traumatising him any further.

Rung tried to remember which of the bots had been harrassed by Whirl few enough times to hold no grudge against him - in other words, who might agree to look after the tiny ruffian while Rung was seeing his patients. Among those bots, Skids came to mind, and with him the memory of scrabmling through the air vents...

\- I seriously hope you wouldn’t make noise or spy on people, - which might be Whirl’s only entertainment in the ventilation shafts, Rung thought bitterly as he climbed onto a chair to open the trap door. - If I leave it slightly open, could you handle it?

\- What ‘cha taking me for, a model ship? - a certain spindly body landed on Rung’s shoulders so suddenly he nearly fell off the chair, scrambling onto his head and into the air vent in a deft but rather uncareful manner.

\- If you could be so kind as to _warn_ me next time, - the psychiatrist chided half-heartedly after the scampering mech, not sure if Whirl could hear him or cared enough to listen.

He already felt the shame for all the mischief Whirl hadn’t even commited yet, which was strange, because Whirl had been his patient _and_ a major troublemaker for quite a while. Rung mused about the way Whirl’s size affected his own sentiments: if he was smaller than that, would Rung feel even the more responsibility for his well-being? He imagined a Whirl the size of his palm - and quickly waved the image away: it gave him pangs of a strange affection he’d never expected to feel towards Whirl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That thing probably caught Whirl's attention because it was cute and mechanical, and he got angry at himself for breaking it, but he's not one to apologize and admit his fault  
> [/inevitable character analysis that worms its way into all my writing]


End file.
